


Heatwaves

by mellowly



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Angst, Friends to Lovers, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Omnics, Vignette
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-20
Updated: 2018-05-20
Packaged: 2019-05-09 09:08:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 908
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14713214
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mellowly/pseuds/mellowly
Summary: stranded in the middle of the desert, a team of overwatch agents try to tackle the heat.genji is frightened, and makes some realisations.





	Heatwaves

 

Sweltering heat makes the air above the dunes shimmer lightly; like silk, Genji thinks, like silk veils that may at any moment lift away and uncover the fresh sky behind, cool winds coming to their aid. He's near delirious with heat, running on overload, sweat sticking to his artificial patches of skin beneath his armour. Angela is adamant they continue walking, that stopping even to rest might mean they never get up again. 

Genji knows she's right, but it hurts anyway. It hurts to keep going here. The ground scorches beneath their feet as the sun rises to noon, and nobody has the heart to make a joke about it. Jesse's poncho has been passed around, held up for some semblance of shade, but the red sands below reflect the blinding light with ease. Genji's eyes are hurting, and he wants nothing more than to lay down.

None of the others in their team fare much better, it seems, but there is one who is especially exposed to the burning sands they all struggle through.

Zenyatta shines in the sunlight.

Chrome and gold plating glimmer through the dusty air, dry and hot and unyielding, and Genji is vaguely aware of his fans whirring just a meter away as they cross over another dune only to be met with more desert. When he looks over, Genji can only barely make out the glow of his forehead array that signals Zenyatta's wakefulness. Its bright teal is dull and drowned out by the desert sun. 

Omnics aren't machines (Genji knows better than to call him one). Not anymore, not purely, and even machines have faults. Even machines have limits. Even machines tire, tire and stop. 

The monk has been silent for hours. Not a sound comes from his synth, nothing but the slow dragging breaths he must take every so often. He hovers lower, and it seems he has little energy left to keep his orbs afloat; they drift and bob, reminiscent of a person nodding off and trying not to. Genji stumbles in the sand and curses.

It all takes a matter of seconds: He slides sideways, a cloud of sand kicked up as he scrabbles for purchase in the heat; voices around him, indistinct yells; the thunk of something hitting the ground to his left-

Zenyatta lies prone in the sand, and Genji can feel his heart stutter.

"He's not- Angela!" 

She's kneeling by the omnic, her brows furrowed in worry even as she flushes from the heat radiating off the metal body of Genji's dearest friend. It makes him want to cry. It's not right. Zenyatta shouldn't be bent and sprawled in the dust, to be rolled over by a concerned medic, sand in his joints making gritty noises when Angela turns him over on his back. There is no light in his optics, nor in the flickering three-by-three on his forehead. 

"Don't touch him," she says softly. "You'll burn yourself."

"I don't understand. He seemed..." Not fine. He wasn't. These temperatures could make any human feel faint, but an omnic has only internal machinery, metal and plastic and silicone to rely on. Genji feels dizzy with fear.

"He's powered down. I am no omnics expert," Angela laments, "But I suspect battery failure. It must be the heat."

"He will be fine?" 

He can't help the way his voice drags up at the end of the sentence, desperation forcing him to question her, to beg. The look in her eyes is absolutely unbearable. 

"Winston is doing his best to send a distress signal. Genji, you must stay calm."

Easier said than done. Panic is already creeping up his titanium spine, a prickling at the back of his head. He forces himself to breathe the way Zenyatta taught him, counting the slow seconds as they drag by. Nothing to be done. He must wait. 

It's so very quiet without the hum of the monk's inner workings beside him. It had not occurred to Genji before, but the sound has somehow worked itself into his consciousness, leaving a gaping hole when so suddenly it is gone. Only the winds above the dunes can be heard, as well as the clink of metal and low voices as the rest of the group work a few paces away.

Angela leaves him be.

How long he sits by Zenyatta's side is unclear. He arranges long metal limbs peacefully, more for himself than for any help to Zenyatta; the sun sets achingly slow, casting an orange glow over the gold of his face, and Genji watches him relentlessly. He meditates, pretends the reflected sunlight are the waves of transcendence, the bright glow that fills him up from the inside with something indescribable. He brushes away sand when it gathers at the omnic's midriff; gently he touches, straying away from the delicate wiring at his core, pretending the others' eyes on him aren't full of pity. 

Silly of him. To be so dependant. To be so alone.

Winston's distress signal has them picked up by a carrier as the first stars appear in the night sky. The temperature drops, but there is no life in the metal before him. No life, no sign of movement, no soul and heart- No laughter. He misses the laughter. He misses the light.

-

In the back of the carrier, in the dark, he slips his mask off and drops a kiss to Zenyatta's face plate, gently.

And he waits.


End file.
